You’re still too young to understand the news, and for that a part of me is grateful. After all, there’s seldom anything on there that I even want to see. It’s all bad news, followed by more bad news, and for now I want to shelter you from all the calamity. School shootings, political unrest, racism and violence. You’re so innocently unaware of it all, and for now you’re not negatively affected by all the anger, injustice, and evil. I wish I could keep you from it forever. Just keep you my sweet, loving girl. But I can’t.

One day you’ll see, and one day you’ll know. I watch you become more aware of the world around you every day, and you’re asking questions, and more importantly contemplating my answers. You’re beginning to form your own opinions, and that’s a good thing, but you still face harsh realities ahead. While a part of me may want to keep you sheltered and protected forever, I know that’s not the way. You need to be a part of this world at large, but you don’t need to let it steal your shine. That’s the challenge.

My advice to you as you begin to notice more the trouble of this world is to abide in hope. To abide is defined as “to continue without fading,” and that’s going to be very important as you go. The fact is that there are cruel people in this world who harm others without thought. Sometimes you will see so much hate, so many heinous acts that make you break into tired tears, and you’ll wonder where all the kindness went.

I can still remember when I served Active Duty and our world was attacked by terror on 9/11. As I watched helpless people jump from a burning building to their death it was as if hope plummeted with them. My heart hurt at the evil that rose against humanity, but then the true grit of humanity rose back in resistance. Despite the atrocious events, hope prevailed. Mankind remained in hope. They abided in hope. It threatened to fade, but in the end it did not. That is what you must always do. Never let the evil of this world win and steal your hope. In this world you will have trouble, but our hope is in something greater than this world. Keep that in mind always.

Here’s the part that kinda worries your Momma, though. You are so sweet, and so kind. Never let that be taken from you! We currently live in a world that feeds on sarcasm and breathes on cynicism. Harsh words are thoughtlessly hurled, opinions are strong, and concessions are few. Sympathy is dulled and charity for the sake of doing it without recognition is rare. You definitely will experience unfair treatment, judgement, and snide comments concerning your life choices. Let them roll off your back, for sure, but don’t let them make you unfeeling. It’s a tough balance to remain sensitive in a “mean” world, yet not let callousness or cruelty change you. They say “if you can’t beat them, join them,” but my advice is to always stay true to you. Don’t allow a hard world to harden you. It’s okay to be “weak” if that means loving your fellow man. A lot of the time when you are weak by the worldly standard, you are truly strong. I think you know what I’m talking about.

But here’s the most important part, kiddo. You are the future. Some folks say “this world has gone to hell in a hand basket,” but you know I never give up hope. I don’t want you to either. Be a world-changer. In a harsh world where confused, hurting people pull out a gun in school, yeah, you need to be on guard, but never do you need to become unloving. When you do that then it really will be the end.

I need you to be the light. I need you to help the hurting. Be the one who reaches out to the quiet, rejected people. Be the one who does no harm, doesn’t judge, and gives a smile always. Watch for those hurting, those who have fallen, and reach out a helping hand. I’m not saying this will be easy, or that it will even be accepted always, but I want you to never stop trying to be a light in this darkened world. Your highest calling in life is to serve others, love others, and perhaps even change this troubled world one life at a time.

You’ve got your work cut out for you, and honestly, I’m glad that right now all you can see is the kindness and love our home offers you. I wish every child had that. Perhaps then we wouldn’t be in the boat we are. For now you’re just learning to love, but my hope is that it will be so ingrained that you’ll have no choice but for you to overflow it into others as you step out further into this troubled world on your own one day.

Visibly rattled he responded, “fine then! Let’s not do it! Let’s just keep everything how it is!”

I sighed at his obvious sarcasm. He knew I wanted this path God had given us as much as he did. I just had more trouble transversing that path. The life God was leading us to was a big change, and it was way outside my wheelhouse. That’s how I especially knew it was God.

We were being led to sell our possessions, sell our home, leave our familiar jobs, and travel across the country as a family. We desired to spend more time together focused on family and God’s will for our life and less time on the busy, demanding things that in essence didn’t matter. The Lord had shown us time and time again that this was what He had for us. That we didn’t doubt. But the uncertainties that came along the way were really hard for me!

They came easier to my husband. He was different than me. He was laid back and typically worry-free. I, on the other hand, might as well have a Masters degree in planning, with a minor in anxiety. I liked to know the answers, the steps to the answers, and perhaps some nice diagrams thrown in for good measure. If our life was a piece of unassembled furniture then I liked to read the instructions twice, my husband would wing it by looking at the picture on the box, and I would sit in the floor nervously beside him trying to read a particular portion of directions to him. To which he’d ignore.

So this change in our life was causing me major stress not knowing all the answers. Much was unknown, and a lot of the rest was leaps of faith. I felt a peace over the direction, but uncertainty still made me twitch. Kinda like how a dirty bathroom floor would do. #guilty

I realized in the midst of my argument with my spouse that I wasn’t so much lashing out at him. I was lashing out at my lack of control. I was lashing out at uncertainty, and I was frustrated that he didn’t respond to that like I did. It came down to being unable to understand why he wasn’t as stressed as me, and I realized a majority of arguments in marriage came down to that. He wasn’t like me!

My husband and I don’t argue much, but when we do it usually is rooted in a difference of opinion or reaction. They say opposites attract, and I guess that’s true in dating, but when it comes to living the rest of forever together then opposites attack. Marriage is all about realizing that your partner isn’t like you, that’s okay, and you can work with it. Most problems in marriage derive from an inability to compromise, a problem seeing the point of view of the other person, and a stoic, unwavering opinion that your way is the only right way.

In our situation I was more angry at my emotions about being anxious and worried than I was at him. I was fighting with my lack of control, not my husband. I hated not having all my ducks in a row or knowing all the answers, but I loved my husband. I even loved the fact that he was different than me. His ability to rest in chaos kept me focused also on what really mattered. He kept me balanced, I kept him challenged. We were a good team. In the midst of an argument and raised voices, it was worthwhile to keep that in mind.

My husband walked in the door with a smile after having taken our middle child to an appointment, and I was just turning off the water at the kitchen sink. As it made a gurgling sound going down the drain I dried my hands on a striped towel and deposited a kiss on my husband’s lips.

“Hey babe!” I said, then I leaned against the counter nonchalant.

He walked into the tidy living room to lay down his phone, but quickly returned with incredulous eyes.

“How did you get so much done with the baby here?” He asked in surprise. “Has she been upstairs this whole time?”

I heard the tiny feet overhead that sounded like a trampling elephant.

“No,” I answered. “She just now went up there.”

Then I proceeded to share how I had given her and her sister a bath, dressed her, and fed them. I explained about kissing booboos and giving attention while also loading the washing machine and dishwasher.

“I guess I’m just good at multitasking,” I answered.

He nodded agreement, but his facial expression still radiated awe.

I smiled satisfied.

There’s a lot of things I feel like I’m pretty good at. I feel like I’m an above average nurse for my patients, and I like to think I’m a good friend and sister when people need me. I’m a decent writer, and I even learned I have some valuable leadership skills when I started my own business a couple of years ago. Despite feeling many days like I’m a failure at motherhood, when my kids run to me excitedly with love in their eyes after I get home from work, I realize I’m a good mom. My husband tells me I’m a great wife, and his silence as he scarfs down supper tells me I’m a skilled cook. Of all the many hats I wear I realize one thing holds them all in harmony. My superhero strength of multitasking. All women have it, I think. It’s like it’s coded specifically into our DNA.

Recently my husband has been able to spend more time home with our children. He’s gotten more involved in their homeschooling and the day-to-day business that is running a house. I think he’s always known my job at home was a full one, but I’m not sure he realized just how difficult it can be to get it all done. The fact is, you don’t. You just do what you can. Recently I was at work at the hospital and I received a text from him.

I will do my best to fill your shoes around here today, but you may have to bear with me since it’s kind of new to me still. You are my best friend, lover, and partner in this wonderful life God has given us and I just want you to know you are very appreciated by me 😘

His words proved to me that he saw me, he saw how hard I worked around the house, and he acknowledged that he couldn’t do it like me. So many times women want to be able to do all the things that men can do, but in that they lose sight of all the things they can do that men cannot. Women have unique talents that set them apart, multitasking being a big one. We are usually, natural nurturers, and we hold a compassion level and emotional connection with others that cannot be compared. We see problems and the world around us from a wise and distinctive perspective, and we’re typically excellent planners and solvers. For me, it’s nice to be able to work outside of the home, but it’s also wonderful to be appreciated for the work I do at home. I’m blessed my husband sees my success in both arenas.

He may not ever be able to multitask around the home like I do, and that’s ok. I wouldn’t want him to be like me because then he wouldn’t be the special man he is. Some things women just do better than men, and it’s ok to be proud of that. We as women should be proud of who we are as human beings. We are definitely fearfully and wonderfully made!

Have you ever known a love that transcended time? Or have you seen a passion that persisted despite the limits placed upon it, the wreckage and roadblocks erected in its way? Have you ever glimpsed an affection that persevered despite bad breaks or broken promises, one that saw ugly truths yet kept going when it was worth it? What of a love that weaved its way like a tapestry, a story so intent on being told that it defied the odds? Are there instances when love really does conquer all? Can it move mountains, make a way, and live out its perfect destiny to completion? Can it really change hearts and bring out the absolute best in its recipients?! Some tales of love just need to be told, and those emotions will write their own book.

This is our love story.

I still remember when I first saw him. As he stood on the stage, head down strumming his strat, the long dark hair fell across his forehead. I won’t say I knew he’d be my husband one day right at that moment, but I was drawn to him. It’s like I could see inside this stranger, as if a light emitted from within him, and I knew immediately that his heart was good. I just wanted to talk to him. The thoughts of happily ever after would come later.

I still remember our first date. I remember our first kiss. We sat together on a tree branch, feet dangling as we looked down at the park path beneath us. His legs hung down longer than mine, we giggled together making fake conversations for the people who passed under us, and I tried to overcome my humiliation over my braces having gotten caught in his shirt in the movie theater earlier when I had playfully and flirting bit his shoulder. Why was I so socially awkward?! But as we shared a sweet kiss in the dark I forgot all about it. I just felt like the world had finally stopped spinning out of control.

I still remember how he made me feel normal, special, loved. He knew my upbringing, my past, and my adolescent mistakes, yet he loved me regardless.

I still remember when he proposed. Yes, we were young. Only twenty! But our hearts knew what our hearts wanted. I knew no one had ever made me happier, and I didn’t think I’d want anyone else to try. We had some things to work on, but I knew together we could do anything we put our minds to. I just knew I’d never felt so at peace and comfortable in the thoughts of forever as I did when I thought of us.

I still remember when we broke up. It was so unexpected, and I kept crying out to God, why?!! How could something that felt so right not be happening anymore. The world began to spin out of control again.

I still remember when I ran away. I ran away from a love that still existed in my heart, but did not exist anywhere else. I didn’t want a familiar if he wasn’t there. Thousands of miles, a string of new relationships, plenty of booze to numb my emotions, and efforts to become someone else.

I still remember when I married another man than him. Pushing into the back of my mind the certainty I had felt at nineteen, hiding journals that proclaimed my commitment to my college sweetheart, but never throwing them away. Ten years, a different life, an emptiness I always tried to fill. Sometimes I even felt like I had succeeded. Sometimes.

I still remember when I saw him again. A decade later, in the same place we had first met. It was like not a moment had passed. Me, with my failed marriage, and him with his own divorce under his belt. Two broken people, plenty of baggage to boot, yet we couldn’t help but smile at one another. It seems this would have been the end of hard and the beginning of happy endings, finally, but no. Good things take time and persistence.

I still remember two wounded people trying to make a go at it. Me calling him my ex-husband’s name as I walked drunkenly through the house at 3am. Him keeping secrets from me. Me going through his pockets. Him never looking me in the eye. Both of us addicts, just of different substances. Me afraid to trust, him unbelieving he could be loved despite it all.

I still remember when I decided to go all in. I remember when I decided I could really be loved despite all the men in my life who had rejected me, starting with an absent, biological father, and ending with a ex-husband who had said he didn’t love me.

I still remember looking up into his eyes on the altar and knowing I could never love someone as much as I did him. Never.

I still remember when we finally started telling each other the truth. The ugly truth. But we saw to the heart of the matter. His good heart still shined brighter than anything to me. I had never known a love so true, and he had never experienced one so unconditional.

I still remember when we began to change, together. How two people could find healing at the same time is still miraculous to me. It’s as if a combustion of sorts occurred, a cataclysmic shift in ourselves. Somehow we brought out the best in one another, and we just kept doing that. It didn’t happen all at once, but every day got better and better. It still does, in fact.

I still remember when I saw the man I love become the father of our children. I had never known I could love someone more than I already did yet it happened. I never knew each day could be more abundant than the one before, yet it happens.

I still remember when I realized our story isn’t done yet. We continue to grow, to cultivate each other. We continue to become more passionate for the other, more selfless, more overflowing with deep affection that cannot be rivaled. We began as teenagers with a reckless, unrefined love. We separated as confused twenty-somethings searching for self. We ran in wrong directions seeking fulfillment yet were brought back together despite time, distance, and change. We persevered through healing, confession, and rejection of this world. We saw the best in one another, and we worked from there. We still work from there.

Sometimes love really is a matter of the heart. You see the heart of another, you’re drawn to it, and you work with that. I’m not of some naive fantasy that says my marriage is perfect. It’s not. It’s hard work, in fact. But it’s also perfect for me. It’s my happily ever after. You just decide to cultivate the good, to forgive the bad, and to trust the story that brings it all together for good.

I was putting the final touches on dinner and had my toddler in the bathtub when I called to my other daughters with the instructions to pickup their toys.

“Pick these toys up. Hurry up before your Daddy gets home.”

As I said this last part I laughed to myself, and it caused me to contemplate why I did things the way I did. I mean, was I trying to hide from my husband how chaotic and messy it could be around here? Nah. He knew it got crazy.

Did I feel like it was my job as a “mostly” stay-at-home mom to keep the house spotless?!

Well, first off, spotless was kind of a stretch when it came to housework with little kids around. Secondly, I knew my spouse certainly didn’t expect that of me. He understood the responsibilities I took care of on the home front, and he had even mentioned to me more than once that it wasn’t necessary for me to prepare a home-cooked meal every night. Of course, to that I had answered him that I cooked for us because I enjoyed it. And I guess this was much the same.

I strived to have a clean house for my husband when he came home because that was one of the ways I showed him I loved him. Just like the meatloaf he liked, having the house tidy was a way I honored him, much like he honored me. I knew personally that after a long day at work at the hospital I liked to come home to an ordered (or semi, anyway) environment. A clean house relaxed me, and it let me feel like I could fully kick my feet up and rest. I knew this type of organization gave him peace also; so a picked up living room and hot meal were simply actions I provided to show him that I cared beyond my mere words saying that I did.

That, to me, was part of a loving relationship. It was doing things for someone else, not because you had to, but because you loved to do it. For them. It meant putting forth a bit more effort, even if you didn’t always feel like it, not out of obligation, but out of a desire to show your love in action. It wasn’t a competition of who worked harder, or who’s turn it was. It wasn’t trying to outdo the other, and it wasn’t showing how much each one could do. It was just love. When you loved someone you considered what made their life a little bit easier, and then you did those things.

As I bathed my toddler while dinner sat warming in the oven, I knew I didn’t rush to clean the living room out of obligation or some sense of responsibility. I didn’t keep things orderly because he worked out of the home more than me. We both knew that our collective days were long and hard. No, I did it just because it was something I could do. I couldn’t control how his day went away from home, but when he entered that door I could offer him love, peace, and happiness. Heck, even with a messy house (which did happen much of the time) I could offer him those things! But if there was something I could do to make his end of day a bit more enjoyable, I went for it. Not because he expected it or because I had to. It was simply a language of love.

It’s amazing to me how quickly God can begin to change a heart, and in that vein I’m reminded of a situation that happened to me about five months ago. In the summer my personal Facebook account was hacked, and by hacked I don’t mean someone took my photo and tried to impersonate me. I mean someone used an old email attached to my Facebook account to take control of it and make it their own. I was briefly able to get in and see where he changed my profile picture, added his friends, and posted on my timeline in another language. Then I got kicked out as he changed the primary email and phone number associated with my account. I reported it, Facebook shut it down immediately, and I never got it or my author page back again.

Y’all, I won’t lie; I was devastated. Ten years I held that personal account, and the author page held followers of my blog from across the globe. I ran a lucrative home-based business from social media and a world-recognized blog, and when I lost it all I was downright depressed. God went along to show me I could make money with my business despite the loss of customers, and He went on to give me another viral blog post within a month’s time. After all, God will work out what He wants worked out despite what the world does. It’s my job to remember that.

But back to priorities. It bothered me that losing my Facebook bothered me. You know what I mean? I didn’t want to admit that I had more invested in social media than I really needed, and from that point forward God began to change my way of thinking. I wondered just how much importance I placed on a platform that couldn’t even see my heart but just a tiny little bit. It began an introspection into why what anyone thought even mattered.

It seems we’ve transformed ourselves into a society that is always ready to pose, always ready to document our lives, and eager to see who all approves. I mean, not a single one of us wants to admit it, but how many of us dress our kids for the day with the idea in mind of taking a photo and posting it to Instagram? In our desire to share the highlight reel of every day we’re creating children who place value on how they look, our own identity on how much attention our efforts are garnering, and a mindset that sees life as a stage. We’re all walking around like we have our own personal paparazzi, and we’re equipping our kiddos to assume the same.

What are our priorities?

When I was a kid I got to be a kid. I got to get dirty in my mismatched, ill-fitting play clothes while my disheveled hair, with nary an enormous, matching bow, half-covered my smiling face. It was a face that smiled because it was having fun, not because my mom was telling me to say cheese. My clothes came from thrift stores, and namebrands were not even a consideration. There wasn’t that much of a concern over what all the other girls were wearing, certainly not like it is today. And I am quite certain my mother didn’t give two toots what the other mothers thought about the way she dressed me.

What are our priorities?

So why do we as mothers today place sooooo much importance on the brand our children are wearing, what’s the latest trend, and if they are measuring up to the other kids in class?

Why are we worried about how many extra-curricular activities they’re involved in, and if we’re hitting the mark with our overloaded volunteer activities as a participating parent? Little Susie has to be in dance, gymnastics, and cheer because little Jan’s mom is handling it all just fine, and doesn’t her hair look fantastic?

What are our priorities?

We’re overly concerned with the opinion of our peers, but most of us are not in high school anymore. I think we’ve forgotten that. We think we need the shiny SUV and the big house. Why? Because that’s what everyone else has. Just look at their photos on Facebook.

Easter Sunday becomes about obligatory photos of perfect, smiling faces in beautiful dresses and shiny suits. And don’t forgot about the baskets. My goodness, the baskets! A plethora of photos of Easter baskets that have exploded out of the basket, across the table, and draped itself over the sofa. Easter has basically become Christmas Morning Part 2. But it’s cool because we go to church for like an hour and remind ourselves about that whole resurrection business. Now on to the egg hunt and ceiling-high, chocolate bunnies!

Listen, I’m not saying I don’t dye eggs and give my daughters candy. I do. And that’s fine and dandy. I love tradition. But I wonder how much merit we misplace on these things? When did birthdays become so big that we stress ourselves for the Pinterest-perfect theme, or break the bank on that very photogenic cake? When did we start thinking we have to buy a billion presents for our kids on Christmas? I love giving my children gifts too, but can’t we all be honest that they don’t even play with half the stuff?

So here we are taking pictures of ourselves for social media packing a shoebox for Operation Christmas Child. We’re so proud of that $1 doll we bought for a needy child overseas! Now hurry up and take off work early so you can go put over $500 of plastic parts in layaway for your own little one. Hey, I’m guilty; I get it.

But what are our priorities?

None of us want to downsize from our two story home to a trailer, after all. What would people think? We’ll keep working hours away from our family to pay that big mortgage, and give our spouse our emotional crumbs at the end of the day. We’ll place value on things like a big screen TV and a vacation that pulls out all the stops. I mean, we need that week at Disney together to make up for the fact that we barely see one another the other 358 days a year.

What are our priorities?

Why are we working all the time to buy all the things, and why do we spend such an elaborate amount of time sharing that with basically strangers? I’ve been asking myself the same kinds of questions. We’re living a life where a slow internet connection ticks us off, but we can ignore the homeless guy on the corner, the abused woman in our ladies’ group, or the hundreds or thousands of hungry kids within our own school district.

Recently when we put our house on the market I began to have a lot of people ask me why. They wanted to know our plans.

“Didn’t you just buy that home a couple of years ago?”

“You have a beautiful home! Why would you want to move?!”

I found myself stammering. I wasn’t sure what to say. How did I say, “we’re selling 90 percent of our possessions and going out on the road to spread the love of Jesus to everyone we meet.” It certainly sounded unconventional to me, and last night I realized I might even be a little worried people would think we were crazy. I asked myself what my priorities were. Were they concerns over what others thought of me? Or were they doing the will of God?

Was it stuff that mattered to me, or time with my family?

Was my priority to fit in with the status quo, American dream? I mean, for some people that’s their medium, that’s where they are called to serve the Lord. But what I’m learning as my husband and I seek the Lord about our priorities is it’s not for us. We are being called to something different, and it feels good!

What are our priorities?

I think whether you live in a mansion or a box it’s a good idea to ask yourself what causes you joy in life. Is it others opinions, or actions that are directed towards gaining their approval? Or is it living for Kingdom purposes? Are we teaching our children what society nowadays totes as important, or are we showing them how loving mankind is what truly matters? Are we living in a worldly mindset, or are we looking at life with an eternal view? This life, the one we stress out so much over, it’s just a flash in the pan! So why are we placing so much value on the things that don’t matter? Much of what we’re counting as important is here today, but gone tomorrow. So my question is, are we investing our time and energies in the things we can take to Heaven with us?

What are our priorities?

It’s a good question. It’s one I’m still asking myself every day. As always, I’m a work in progress with many missteps along the way. So while I’m not in any way saying you have to sell all your possessions, give the money to the poor, and move your entire family to a far corner of the planet to serve God, I am saying that we all can be blinded by the things of this world. They’re bright and shiny, and they’re really good at distracting us and taking our eyes off Jesus. So here’s what I want.

I want to live tomorrow seeing with eyes like the Lord much more than I do today. I want to be so in tune with what God wants for my life that I don’t even feel the need to be bothered by anything that He doesn’t want for me. I want to love like He does, give like He directs me to, and keep my focus on what’s important. And when I say give I’m not just talking about money. We are called to give our hearts and time for His kingdom, and I’m wondering when exactly we forgot this part?

So maybe all this sounds crazy to you, and perhaps you’re even laughing. That’s okay. I’m growing more and more towards a place where the approval of man means less and less. I want the light of God to shine out of my life, to love those around me, and to lead others to His face. The rest of it is just busy work. It’s how we spend time until He calls us home. So I figure if I have the time to spend, I might better spend it well, and when I stand before God on judgement day I hope I’ll see an account of my life that will bring more joy than sadness. It’s good to see that for now I can very well apply editing to images of my day, but I’m wise to realize that one day everything will absolutely be #nofilter.

I’ll never claim to be an expert on all things marital. After all, my first union ended in divorce, and while it wasn’t by choice of my own at the time, I take full credit for the plethora of mistakes I made that first time around. So as a woman whose first marriage failed I’d like to think I learned something from such a regrettable situation. I could come up with a great big handful of specific circumstances that most likely led to the demise of my first marriage, but let’s just be honest and roll it all up into one truth enchilada. In the end it comes down to two people who weren’t living for and/or serving God. End of story. Sure there’s a lot I left out in the middle, but from the beginning, all the way to the bitter end, my unhappy marriage was due to both people not having their eyes on Jesus.

Many times when you see unhappy marriages you can pinpoint the very same cause as the culprit for my divorce. One or both people aren’t serving the Lord. The fact is if you are serving Jesus it will serve your marriage. A lot of strife in marriage is brought in on the back of selfishness. One partner will become fixated on how the relationship isn’t meeting their needs. They will focus on how the other person is failing. They will cultivate the thoughts in their minds of how their partner isn’t carrying their load. It becomes a fixation on me.

He isn’t paying attention to me.

She doesn’t understand me.

He isn’t providing for me.

She isn’t satisfying me.

And on and on. Me, me, me.

Remember when I said the key to a happy, healthy marriage is serving Jesus? That’s because as you serve Jesus you will learn that He was a servant. You’ll begin to understand that serving others is the only way to truly love. Husbands will see to serve is to lead, and wives will see that to serve is to be equal. To serve is the only way to be served. Sound crazy?

Mark 9:35 (NIV)

35 Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all.”

When Jesus hung on the cross in pain He could have called a host of angel armies to come to His aid, but instead He chose to serve man. He chose to forgive, and He chose to give of Himself. He now reigns in all power and all glory forever and ever. He conquered death, is loved by more people than you can imagine, and will still be loved by more than you can fathom. He died alongside criminals, but He is ruler of heaven and earth. He served out of love, serves us still in love, and desires we follow His lead. The great part is that by doing so we are rewarded with a fulfilling, joyous life. Try it and see.

In my second marriage I dedicated my life to serving God and my husband did the same. We love one another very deeply, but above all we love the Lord. Each day we live for Jesus, and somehow that can’t help but bleed into our marriage. We see one another with the eyes our Savior gives us, and we follow God’s word in how we treat one another. I’m not saying every day is like a dream. I just snapped at my husband this very morning when I took something he said as offensive to me! I got mad. Then he got mad. Then we apologized, we forgave, we moved on. Marriage isn’t easy, but it’s not that hard either; not as hard as we make it anyway. I’m no expert, but I am learning as I go, and I love sharing what God shows me.

I can honestly say that each and every single day I love my husband more than I did the day before, but I truly think it has everything to do with the fact that each day I also grow closer to the Lord. I believe it goes hand in hand. I believe that in most relationships of this world that we can have a clearer understanding of the other person when we try to see them like Jesus. I think most relationships will flourish when we walk in the fruits of the spirit. I think more marriages would survive if we served our spouse and Jesus alike, and I think we’d experience less hurt and misunderstanding in our relationship with our spouse if we tried to see them like God does.

You have to pray for your spouse, but you have to pray that God will lead them to a closer walk with Him. You have to pray that God does His will in your spouse’s life, not your will. Then you have to pray for yourself. You have to pray that God can make you a better partner, that God can use you to lift up your spouse, not the other way around. That just happens in a reciprocal relationship. You shouldn’t have to pray that your spouse encourages you more. Encourage your spouse and see what happens. Become truthworthy yourself, then extend that trust outwards. See what happens. When you see something that makes you angry, take a breath, think of one thing you do that probably makes your spouse angry, then proceed. Consider that in marriage you’re in debt. You owe your spouse yourself. Now pay up. See if you don’t get more in return.

Yes, marriage is complex, but it’s also elementary. It’s the epitome of the Golden Rule you learned on the playground in first grade. It’s treating your partner the way you would wish to be treated. It’s not games or getting even. It’s actually loving someone more than you love yourself. It’s forgiveness because you know you’re not perfect either. It’s not unrealistic expectations. It’s a service of love, a service that pays you back in return without you having to ask. It’s loving someone just a fraction of how much Jesus loves you. It’s striving to love more each day. And sure, it’s not easy, but it’s not as hard as we try to make it either.

I’ve always been the kind of person who wanted to be liked by everyone. I didn’t expect to be homecoming queen or anything, but I did want to be the type of person anyone could get along with. Growing up I always tried to be the friend that could keep a secret, and the person least likely to gossip (which is actually kinda hard). The thought of someone disliking me always bothered me, and even as I’ve gotten older I don’t like broken relationships or rocking the boat. I hate confrontation. It’s actually makes me shake. I get that quivering feeling in the pit of my stomach, my heart rate increases, and that sensation of dread comes over me. As a teenager this quality made me a target, but as an adult it’s probably made me a good ally. The point is you won’t find me picking an argument, and standing up for myself is actually hard for me.

These qualities are good and bad. I’d like to think they’re mostly good. I’m quick to forgive, I don’t sweat the small stuff, and it takes a lot to make me call it quits. But sometimes you just have to. This is something I’m realizing the older I get. I don’t have to be friends with everyone, and while I still feel called to love my fellow man, I’m learning that I can love some from a distance.

I recently found myself in a situation where a longtime acquaintance said something hurtful to me. The thing was it wasn’t the first time this had happened, and not even the second. With each situation I had pushed it aside, after much time spent mulling it over incessantly in my mind, and then I had moved on without saying a word. In my heart I knew that I probably wasted more time upset about it than I should, whereas the other person probably didn’t give it a second thought. If I’ve learned anything so far in life it’s that different people are wired different. Some people care too much, while others care too little. But finally I was in a place where I could honestly ask myself why I was allowing an individual into my life who only caused me stress, and more importantly didn’t seem to even notice that they did.

You can’t be everyone’s friend.

It is true that the Lord wants us to love one another and to be of one accord, but the problem is this world in which we live. It’s a world that gives different upbringings to different people, it brings specific, sad pain to some individuals, and presents different challenges to each along the way. Some people can take the hurt that was given to them and it somehow makes them stronger. Those injured souls may use their pain to help others, while another may fall under the weight of what life dealt them. They may use that pain as a reason to never trust, to lash out, and to hold people at a distance. Some people who have been hurt become more sensitive to the pain of others, while the next person may become numb to the pain they inflict. We all hold unique challenges of how to see life, how to walk through it, and how to interact with people as we go. There’s just too many variables.

I long for Heaven, a place where we can all let go of the pain of sin that makes relationships so difficult. Until then I’ll do best to remind myself that I don’t have to endure painful friendships, and I don’t have to love everyone up close and personal. I know that I’m not perfect, and it’s good to remember that neither is anyone else. Sometimes my imperfections clash with the imperfections of another, and on this side of Heaven, that’s ok. God doesn’t demand my perfection, just my love. His mercies are new each morning, His strength is made perfect in my weakness, and it’s just fine and dandy to admit that I’m not the perfect, best friend to every person on this planet. Distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder, but it can prevent it from putting up with unnecessary pain.

I have been pleasantly pleased over the years to see the issue of Bullying acknowledged as a problem in society. In fact, as I type my phone autocorrects Bullying to make it capitalized. That’s great, right? That must mean that it’s well on its way to becoming a non-issue! But then I see the comments. You know the ones I’m talking about. Those thoughtless, or perhaps misguided comments that try and downplay an issue that actually causes people to take their own life. I just don’t think you can put a pretty bow on something like suicide. I don’t think you can be optimistic about an issue like that. You can’t ignore it or pretend it’s not there.

Let’s debunk some common conclusions people come to about Bullying. Just maybe it can open some stubbornly squinted eyes around here. For example, I see this one a lot.

Kids will be kids.

It just makes my blood boil to even write that down. Kids will be kids, huh? I’m thinking the people who nonchalantly make this kind of comment have never truly been bullied or had their child be a victim. They haven’t taken their daughter to the police department like my parents did when I was a teen. After finding a bloodied stuffed animal with its throat cut in my driveway they realized it wasn’t just kids being kids anymore.

Kids are kids, and in being kids they will say thoughtless words without thinking. They’ll even be mean. I get that. My kid told me a year after the last baby that my belly “was still fat.” I didn’t think she was bullying me; I knew she was just being a kid. But you see, Bullying is beyond a thoughtless comment or someone not wanting to play with you. Bullying is cruelty. It’s inhuman behavior directed at another human being. It’s making someone hurt because you hurt. It’s inflicting pain to try and lessen your own. It’s sad, really.

Bullying isn’t a kid being a kid. Bullying is making someone’s life unbearable. For me as a teen it was things like 30 prank calls an hour, spray painting whore on the road signs pointing to my driveway, or turning an entire school against me. That’s a lot to deal with when you’re a teen. When you’d rather sleep than eat, hide in a teacher’s room than face the high school hell that’s the lunch room, or crawl inside yourself to avoid the laughter and whispers then you might just begin to scratch the surface of what Bullying is like. It’s absolutely nothing like kids being kids. That actually would have been nice.

What about this gem?

It will make them stronger.

I get it. I understand trying to make a positive out of something negative. I’m a huge optimist, so I can almost get along with that kind of thinking. Except I can’t. No, just no. That’s like saying if someone is mugged in a dark alley, “well, they’ll know next time not to venture out in an area like that after dark.” Nobody would say that. So here’s the similarities of the victim of robbery and a victim of Bullying: they’re both victims, neither one asked to be a victim, and the incident will haunt them both for the rest of their lives. Think I’m being over dramatic? Then consider yourself lucky. You’ve never been the victim of Bullying.

You know what, I’ll try and meet you half way. I’ll agree that perhaps Bullying makes someone stronger in the future, if by stronger you mean less likely to trust people, build friendships, or be comfortable in social situations. I suppose it makes them stronger in that they build a hard shell around themselves to prevent harm, and that they are more on the guard for their own children to be mistreated. Guilty as charged. I’m stronger, alright, but if I could go back in time and take away that period of my life I’d do it in a second. I’d love to embrace the weakness of a woman who could trust and love more readily. Think about that next time you want to toughen up your kids. Which brings me to this one.

It prepares them for the real world.

Sigh. This actually makes me want to cry. I want to weep that we live in a world where we feel we must toughen up our children to fight back at the harshness around them. We do live in a cruel world, sadly, but being an adult is different than being a child, or even a teenager. I am able to deal with mean women a lot better at forty than I was able to deal with mean girls at fifteen. And it’s not because I was bullied. It’s because I’m an adult who has matured mentally, emotionally, and spiritually to handle such situations. We shouldn’t expect our teenagers to be able to handle the turmoil of that yet. We’re not doing them any favors by letting them transverse these situations alone. I can totally see why young girls kill themselves. I’m surprised I didn’t at that age. If social media would have been around, I might have been a statistic myself. As adults we must help be the change. I love this quote.

It’s not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It’s our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.

– L.R. Knost

Thought provoking, right? What if we as adults stopped raising bullies? What if we could mold kind, compassionate, and loving behavior for our children? What if we could instill in them a high self-worth so they don’t have the need to make themselves feel better by making someone else feel worse?

Smiling for a photo, 1993

When I was a teenager it wasn’t just one girl I considered being my bully. Sure there’s always a ring leader, but it’s also each follower that compounds the issue ten-fold. Every other kid who went along with the taunting, every teacher who turned a blind eye, and every parent who didn’t teach their children to stand up for the weak, stand against the cruel, or to offer a compassionate hand to those who need it; they were all a contributor to my experience with Bullying.

So what can we do? What if we could start by acknowledging the fact that Bullying is real? It’s not just kids being kids, and it’s not something they have to go through so they’ll be a better functioning adult. Those are just excuses we feed ourselves so we can continue to be adult bullies who raise little bullies. Just saying.

Perhaps consider this. If you don’t think Bullying is a problem then you’re part of the problem.

Addendum: I needed to add this. I did a lot of praying before I published this. You see, I didn’t want one of my former bullies to be hurt by my words above. That’s right! She’s no longer my foe, but my friend. Only God, right?! I forgave her (along with anyone else), and anything I share about bullying isn’t with anger in anyone’s general direction. God knows the people I hurt in this life before He showed me His face and changed my life! We are all works in progress. I felt the content needed to be shared so here it is.

I don’t talk about my previous marriage that much anymore. In fact, many of you may not even realize that I wasn’t always married to the wonderful man I am now. I have an ex-husband, and I’ve been divorced. I don’t talk about it much presently because it’s a pain I’ve moved past, or rather God has redeemed me, healed me, and given me a new life. But last night as I considered the topic I wanted to write about this seemed like the perfect example.

I can still recall one Tuesday night sitting with a group of women from my church. We were discussing forgiveness, and at that moment my heart was completely wrecked. I cried snotty tears to the ladies around me as I confessed, “I hate him! I just hate him!”

It hadn’t started as hate, as I suppose most feelings evolve over time. When my ex-husband first came home and told me he didn’t love me anymore I didn’t hate him; I was hurt, and I suppose that’s how most hate forms. It arrives on the wings of hurt. That night that I cried out for prayer from my friends at church was probably eight years past the day he came home and shattered my false reality that all was well, and in that time I had been through every emotion possible. I had been through devastation that my marriage was falling apart, and then an acceptance that I couldn’t change things or make him happy. I had gone through a period of being friends, being cool, and moving on all nonchalant. Then I had also gone through a period of eye-opening where I not only realized my own faults, but also finally saw clearly just how unhealthy our relationship had been. Somewhere in between the rediscovery of my own self-worth and the regret of past decisions made I became angry at him. Then as time continued my realization of a contaminated marriage, coupled with a lack of relationship with Jesus that I had dwelled in, I just got more and more mad. It wasn’t right, but somehow my heart filled with hate for this man. In my eyes he had hurt me, rejected me, and wasted years of my life that I couldn’t get back. There was more to it than that, but bringing up the specifics now of how I felt wronged and wounded would serve no purpose other than to reopen the cuts I have prayed hard to close. The point is, after years of trying to move on I was stuck in a rut of unforgiveness.

Matthew 22:36-40New International Version (NIV)

36 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” 37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’[a] 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b] 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

As I work each day to draw closer to the Lord and to see the world with His eyes I understand even more the importance of love. We are called not only to love those easy to love, but to love even the seemingly unlovable. So when I find myself in a situation where someone hurts me I try to see them as Jesus does. I try to look at them with Kingdom eyes. So, for example, when another woman says something hurtful to me I try to understand what she must have gone through that has made her desire to lash out at others. I’ve come to understand through the years that it’s okay to love from a distance. So when Jesus calls us to love our enemies and to forgive those who have hurt us, He’s not saying we have to invite them over for dinner and share a great conversation at the table, but we are called to love them nonetheless. We are called to not harbor anger or hate in our hearts. We’re called to let go of our pain, let go of how we have been wronged, and let God sort it out.

I realized that evening in church when I cried out to the other ladies of the congregation that I was only hurting myself further by holding on to anger and pain. My unforgiveness was holding me back from God’s best for me. I was no longer in a place where I could love this man as my husband, but I did need to love him as a fellow creation of my Father. So I do. It feels good to let hurt go and to give it to the ultimate healer of our hearts. When we harbor anger, especially that born of pain, we allow an invisible wedge between the Father and us. Only in our forgiveness can we truly move forward, and only when we see with the eyes of Jesus can we look past our own hurt and heal.

Meet Brie

Brie is a thirty-something (sliding ever closer to forty-something) wife and mother. When she's not loving on her hubby, bouncing a happy toddler on her hip, chasing her preschooler, or teaching her six year old at the kitchen table, she enjoys cooking, reading, and writing down her thoughts to share with others. But honestly she loves nothing more than watching a great movie, or a hot bath, alone if the children allow. Which never happens.Read More…

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